This work contains my music pieces. Apart from one,
or maybe two, they are more "romantic" than "technique"
pieces. Some of them are very old, others more recent. For many years,
these compositions have been only for myself. I went back to them every
time I have lost some of my certainties. I have been "building"
these music pieces in order to have a place where I could feel at home,
to find myself when I am feeling lost, like having something an internal
compass, like swallows, or dogs, or carrier pigeons have. Sometimes,
I have totally forgotten them. I removed from my brain and I could not
recognize them any more. One day, I was walking in the Villa Borghese,
a park in Rome. At one point, I surprised myself whistling the opening
of a music piece. I thought: "this is vey nice", and I started
wondering who was the author of the melody. For a moment, I had the
impression that it could have been mine, but I immediately thought:
"No, this can not be: it is too beautiful to be mine". Few
months later, when I was tiding up, among some old books, cds and dvds,
I found a tape, where for many years I recorded my own music. I listened
to it and I found the same melody I was whistling that day in Villa
Borghese. So it was mine! It came from me! But when? and how? Was it
an echo of a dream, or of a chance meeting? And now, what was it whispering
to me? Something, as unspoken words